


Home is Where the Heart Is

by Little_vesuvius



Series: Finding Home [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Adalgrim is the name of a real Hobbit but I treated him like an OC (sorta), Begins with a Lot of Angst, Briony Baggins, Dwarf Courting, F/M, Female Bilbo, Female Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Hobbit Courting, Hobbit Culture, Hurt/Comfort, Meddling Valar, Non-Canonical Valar, Not kidding, Romance, Seriously This fic is a Feels Outlet, Time Travel Fix-It, sort of canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-04-04 23:28:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4157001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_vesuvius/pseuds/Little_vesuvius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin Oakenshield died on a battlefield almost a hundred years before the woman he loved, in her arms, begging for her forgiveness.</p><p>Briony Baggins felt Thorin die and lived on through the Fading she was supposed to experience, dying after the Ring's destruction.</p><p>Eru thinks it's high time to change the battle against the wayward monster, Morgoth, after His Daughter succeeds in doing the impossible-and separating the entities Melkor and Morgoth from each other.</p><p>(This is the prequel to a much longer time travel fix-it fic that I have been working on called Coming Home, as one of my ideas alongside Bramble's story.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home is Where the Heart Is

**Author's Note:**

> So, yeah, Melkor and Morgoth being separated spawned out of nowhere. Still not sorry for it, since it was a part of a larger, better universe. Personally, family is family, and my family's always been pretty close to each other. I feel like Aule and Melkor came from a pretty good family...so here's what I made of that interpretation.
> 
> There may be further surprises in this universe, but the key thing to remember here is that the Valar are a little different than in canon. It was an exploration that spawned this universe, at least in part, but now I can't let go of it.
> 
> Edit (as of July 10th): Credit for inspiring the Linking process goes to LizzeXX (can't believe I forgot that was in here!).

That was strange.  The Dwarrow were not supposed to arrive for another day by her calculations, unless one of them had set out uncommonly _early_ just to reach her doorstep.  Yet there had just been a knock at her door as if one of them were here _now,_ rather than later.  And it had to be a Dwarf knock, for no Hobbit pounded so heavily on any door. They simply weren’t strong enough to create such noise.

Briony rose to her feet, glancing at the food she’d started cooking earlier in the day that needed to be kept for tomorrow.  It was a truly insurmountable task even for her to cook enough food for thirteen Dwarrow and a wizard, _and_ herself, all in the span of a day, so she’d decided to start early.

Well, if they _were_ early, the Dwarrow (or single Dwarf) that showed up at her doorstep would be expected to help in the kitchen provided they were decent at cooking.  The only ones she would trust in her kitchen were Ori, Thorin, and Bombur.  The others would only set it on fire, but she would make use of whatever help she was given anyway.

Briony walked to the door, with no small sense of trepidation. There was no Hobbit standing behind that door, and none of the Company was supposed to show up until tomorrow night.

The note!  Of _course_!  Briony could have slapped herself for forgetting it so easily.  Eru had told her that she would have help earlier this morning. The help of one person, who would be sent back from her previous life.  She had assumed it would be one of her Dwarrow, but she had not been able to determine who it would be.

In the wake of her conversation with Gandalf this morning, she had completely about the note.

Briony took a deep breath, because whoever was on the other side of this door already knew her.  And they had likely caused her hurt over the years, as had every Dwarf in the Company at some point. She had to be calm, and remain rational no matter who was on the other side of the door.

Briony opened the door, and stopped cold when she saw who was standing on the other side.  All breath left her, and her world tilted on its axis for a moment, turning upside-down, because there was _no way_.  Absolutely. No. Fucking. Way.

Eru had sent _him_ to help her.

Briony was not prone to cursing nearly as much as the Dwarrow she had once traveled with, but they had removed her tendency to avoid cursing whenever possible.  In fact, she had learned over half of her swear words-in Quenya, Sindarin, and Khuzdûl-from them.

Several of these choice words found their way to the front of her mind, but she could only stare, stunned, because she had never, not once in _all_ of her life, expected to see this Dwarf ever again. And she was looking at _her_ Dwarf, not just one of the Company. Not just the Dwarf she’d expected to see again after all this time.

Staring at her with no small amount of trepidation in his eyes, for those that knew him well enough to read, was Thorin Oakenshield, uncrowned King of the Dwarrow of Erebor.

The Dwarf that had taken her heart and more, and shattered it all into a million pieces, leaving her broken and dying if not for the Ring holding her to life.  She had been Fading for her entire life without really realizing it until she had given the Ring up for good.

And yet here he was as if nothing had _ever_ happened between them.

Except…perhaps that was not entirely true.  He was looking at her warily, as if he was trying to decide whether or not it was a good idea to turn around and leave her here in the Shire. She knew that look very, very well; he’d started giving her the same look at about the time they entered the Mountain last time, and trying to protect her. 

It had gotten them into serious trouble with the dragon last time.

Last time, it had resulted in his death, and her eventual carrying of the One Ring until her death.

“I will be _damned_ ,” were the first words she managed to get out, “if I let you leave me behind again, Thorin Oakenshield!  Last time was _bad enough_! Don’t you even _think_ about it!”

That seemed to shock him out of it “You-are you saying you actually _want_ to do this again?” spluttered the Dwarf, looking stunned. “You-I…”

Briony could tell that all eyes were turning to them.  She took three deep breaths, and cleared her throat, attempting to find words to reassure the Bounders that she knew had followed the Dwarf all the way here. 

“If you are hoping it will come to blows, good Hobbits, then it won’t,” her voice was even and calm, and much calmer than she felt given the circumstances. “Please leave this place in peace, and don’t frighten the poor Dwarrow that come after my friend.  Inform the Thàin that this is business, _personal_ business, that I will be _very cross_ if anyone interrupts.  If he continues to order you along, mention the Green Dragon, and his forty-fifth birthday. If he does not want this becoming public knowledge all over the Shire, he _will_ listen to me.” 

A Hobbit melted out of the brush; it was her cousin, Adalgrim Took.

Briony almost rolled her eyes when Thorin made to step protectively _between_ them, as if her cousin was going to hurt her!  She took a few deep breaths, trying to remind herself _not_ to smack the Dwarf she had loved and lost.  It was sweet that he thought she needed his protection, though she wouldn’t let him keep this attitude up for long.

Pinching the bridge of her nose, she said “Thorin, he’s my cousin, and charged with keeping me safe.  Adalgrim, run along to our dear cousin with your friends, and do try not to frighten the ‘Ri brothers tomorrow, especially the one with shiny silver hair. They’re all very strong, and very protective of their youngest.”

Adalgrim saluted her with a grin “Uncle Fort isn’t going to be happy about this,” he replied.

“Let him complain about it to my face then,” said Briony firmly “I trust Thorin.” Now it was Thorin’s turn to stare at her in shock. “Yes, yes, I know, we have a lot to talk about,” she gestured into her smial, “now get inside before we start more rumors.  And yes, Adalgrim,” she turned back to her cousin. “I trust the Dwarrow that accompany him, as well.  They will not see harm befall one of their own.”

Adalgrim sighed, and answered her in the Windspeech _“Aye, but that Dwarf looks almost as if his eyes are about to pop out of his skull.  Are you sure-”_

 _“We’ve hurt each other, Adal, and we need to make our peace before we can be civil company. If you hear me shouting at stupid, rude Dwarrow or cursing up a storm, you know why.  This Dwarf has the capacity to irritate me like no other,”_ she smiled fondly and added in Westron. “It’s rather rude to keep using that tongue to speak around guests.  Now, Adal. And take little Ham with you, else he will eavesdrop on my conversation with Thorin from the garden.”

Adalgrim saluted her “Yes ma’am!” he said with a cheeky grin, dodging her swat with a laugh “I love you too, cousin!”

“Oh, go bother someone else,” Briony retorted with a roll of her eyes. The Hobbits saluted her one by one and moved off into the bushes, marching away towards Hobbiton. She turned back to Thorin, who was only three steps into Bag End “I wasn’t lying.  We do need to speak, but without the Bounders present,” she lowered her voice, “I would rather they not become too interested in this, especially since I returned alive and do not intend to die anytime soon.”

Thorin looked caught between asking questions and wishing for an explanation, so he said nothing.  His face was set in that adorable grumpy look he usually adopted when he couldn’t understand something. He let her usher him inside and wiped his feet silently as she shut the door behind him.

“Weapons,” Thorin hesitated, and Briony sighed. “Look. I respect that we need to talk, but it is not only considered rude to have weapons out or to be armed while discussing business, I would really rather only risk having my furniture destroyed using Dwarven strength.  There is no need to kill my chandelier in the process, or-”

“I do not hesitate out of disrespect for you,” he said, “Only that I do not know where you would like me to put them.” There was a note of hurt in his voice, and Briony almost winced, finishing his thought in her mind.

He’d taken it the wrong way, as usual.

“I didn’t mean that I thought you would hurt me, because I know you better than that,” Briony flushed a little, clearing her throat. “I would like to keep property damage to a minimum, though, since I plan on leaving this place for Drogo and Prim.  Right, well, I need to disarm too, I suppose.” She turned “Follow me.  I’ve been trying to work out where to put them all tomorrow, myself.  I suppose here works,” she gestured to a spot far enough from the hearth where she kept her weapons.

The pile she’d broken out of storage this morning contained her mother’s bow, which she had kept in very good condition, a quarterstaff that was jagged on one side that she had used to kill several orcs, and her favored sword, though it was not Sting.  Not yet. No, this blade was from the Barrow-Downs, and she had barely escaped with her life even with it. It was a blade of Númenor, and according to Gandalf, was forged with the same skill that went into making Orthanc. Accompanying it was a quiver of arrows, all rather large for someone Briony’s size.

Thorin stared at the small pile of weapons for a moment “You did not bring them last time,” he commented, as he pulled off his own sword, bow, a metal shield, an _oaken_ shield of petrified wood, and quiver of arrows, along with a set of hunting knives.

Briony felt her lips twitch as she pulled out her own set of knives, disarming down to none-including the one she kept hidden in her breast-band. Thorin’s eyes were drawn to her chest for a moment before he averted them.  He only seemed mildly surprised when she pulled out a knife from the breast-band.

“Yes, well, last time I had not used them in quite some time,” she said lightly “And I did not exactly have the time to look for them the morning after. For that matter, how would you _know_ if I kept my knives on me? There was never an opportunity for me to use them, except with the Trolls and I was fairly sick that night, if you recall. How do you _think_ I picked the lock on your chains in Mirkwood, with my hands?” she set down her lock-pick kit as well, still rolled in leather, beside her knives.

Thorin stared at her in mute surprise for a moment before he nodded “I understand, and I meant no-”

“I know,” Briony cut him off, knowing what he was going to say. It was the same thing he would have said last time around. “I know _you_ , Thorin, so you need not keep explaining your actions to me. Unless you have forgotten how long we spent in each other’s company last time around, in which case, _quit_ worrying about offending me.”

She had lost any Baggins tendencies to skirt the subject at about the same time she’d realized who Thorin was to her.  He and his people had had quite the lasting effect on her, it seemed.

Thorin winced “On that matter I disagree.  There are several matters we need to speak of,” Briony almost winced herself, knowing where this was going. “Else the memories and their poison will never truly become only memories.”

Briony nodded stiffly, and led him into her parlor, gesturing to an armchair “Sit.  You’ve been on the road for awhile, and this is going to be difficult enough to recount without us standing up to scream at each other, should it come to that.”

Thorin sat across from her, as she sat down in the old rocking chair (still new, at this point in time) she had used to use to rock Frodo to sleep. She would miss that fauntling, this time around, though she had no intention of letting his parents wander to the river and their deaths.  Not this time. Briony pushed thoughts of her young nephew, like a son to her in so many respects, out of her mind and focused on Thorin.

“I do not know where to begin,” said Thorin quietly “for it seems throughout our previous journey, all I did in regard to you was wrong.” Briony opened her mouth “Let me finish, please.  I had no respect for you at the beginning, seeing you as one of the simple, gentle folk of the Shire and I did not believe bringing you along to your death was wise.  Even if Gandalf believed it of you, I have been burned far too many times by the trust of another to put my belief and trust in a stranger so easily.  You proved me wrong not once, but several times over, though I was not to admit it until far later than you deserved.  Your patience with me is to your credit, because I am not an easy Dwarf to travel with, even should I trust you.”

Briony had to interrupt then, chuckling “You seem to think all I did was put up with you.  Thorin, you are my _friend_ , and you always have been; I see in you now, as I saw then, one of the best people I have ever known. I wanted to know _you_ , rather than the King you seemed to think you had to be, and a great deal of your grumpiness was from worry.”

Thorin’s lips twitched “Regardless, you did have to put up with me for quite some time before I admitted to myself how much you meant to me. Even after that, my foolish, Dwarven pride always lay between us.  After the fall of…Erebor,” the word seemed to pain him in a way she hadn’t heard before, or seen, but maybe he was trying to tell her something.

“I had naught but my pride left.  Some days I did not even have that, for it was my pride, or my sister and her sons’ dinner.  On our journey, my pride blinded me to what was standing in front of me; what I still did not see, until the very end.  To someone who would do right by me, who would protect me even from my _own_ foolish pride, someone who had stood by my side for longer than I had realized.  And that _pride_ ,” he scowled “Kept me from asking for help, or speaking to you as I should have.”

Briony would have taken a breath to speak, but Thorin shook his head, “That damned Silmaril was the breaking point.  The dragon’s hoard did not have nearly so much of an effect on me as that _thing_.  I never wish to see it again,” curiously, his eyes appeared to be glowing, but it was likely a trick of the light. “Ever.”

“Silmaril…so that’s what it was,” Briony mused “I had wondered, but never asked any of the Valar once I had the chance.  Only Gandalf might have suspected, I believe, but since it was returned to the earth as it was when Maedhros cast it in, in the first place, I didn’t-sorry,” she realized aloud, “I didn’t realize I’d started with that.”

She could feel her cheeks warming; she really was a sentimental old Hobbit. No one wanted to hear her go on and on about the history of Ages long past.  Thorin had been fascinated once upon a time, but this was an Elvish story, and he had no love for Elves.

Thorin’s expression softened “Don’t worry yourself,” he said, “I find those tales interesting, myself.  You are certain it was Maedhros’ Silmaril, then?” he asked her, “If it was a Silmaril at all.”

Briony frowned, “It held a light, a light that ensnared even _Thranduil_ , and that is not easy to claim. For a time it even held me under its sway and that is not easy.  And it looked to match the light of the moon and sun, even if it outshone them. If it was not a Silmaril, Thorin, I do not know what it was.  I did manage to find one portrait of the three Silmarils in Imladris, and it greatly resembled them.  It…would not be unreasonable to assume that it _is_ a Silmaril, and quite possibly tainted with the centuries it spent in Morgoth’s possession.”

Thorin shook his head “My fall was my own, and my madness-”

Briony cut him off, looking him dead in the eye “ _Dragon_ sickness did not affect you, even surrounded by the hoard of riches that had been sat on for _nearly a hundred and fifty years_ ,” she emphasized. “If the Arkenstone held that form of power over you, and over the _Elves_ , then there is something wrong with it.”

“That does not explain how it did not affect you, or Tharkûn,” argued Thorin, “You were never affected by its nature.”

Briony’s sad smile made him start “I was affected by it, but not to the same extent.  And I know why, but I think we have gotten off-track there.  I will explain, I promise,” she said, “but until we clear the air between us, we _cannot_ continue.”

Thorin inclined his head, and for a moment, there was silence between them. Maybe she had misjudged him, at least where Elves were concerned.  After staring at each other for a good, long moment, Thorin cleared his throat.

“I went to the Houses of Healing, when I died,” he admitted “And while I was there, I learned…many things.  Given the chance, I was allowed to heal from the…” he swallowed hard “the fall. Everything.  And then I discovered something else, that something was twisting my mind from before you were ever born.”

Briony swallowed hard, recalling the tales of Thráin and Thrór. If it was what she thought it was, if it was indeed a ring of power…

“I never wore the ring, though my grandfather and my father wore it, and I have no doubt I was affected, with the amount of time I spent around it.” Thorin winced, “The Ring of Dúrin has long been passed through our line, and I have no doubt that it enhanced the tendency of our line to…fall to the gold-sickness, which was my worst fear for much of my life.  I spent many years advising my grandfather, and many more fighting alongside my father, but I never noticed its whispers, or if I did, I ignored them.”

He chuckled bitterly “Yet I followed their example, and my pride did not allow me to ask for aid, and in this case, it enhanced my weakness. I will not excuse my actions under the gold-sickness.  They were not right, and they will _never_ be right. I all but _killed_ my nephews, the closest I have ever had to _sons_ , because of my own damning greed.” His words were sharp, “I nearly killed _you_ , Briony, and for a _stone_ with darkness at its heart. Even if it is a Silmaril, and held evil, I should have been able to resist its call.  Mahâl knows if not for you more of us would not have survived that battle.  Erebor would have been brought to ruin.”

He fell silent for a moment, and then swallowed audibly “You are worth _far_ more than that dragon-cursed hoard,” the words were dripping with self-contempt, and in that moment Thorin looked just like the old Dwarf he was. “And I was an utter fool never to realize that until it was too late.  I am…grateful you forgave me, but I do not know if I will ever forget how that-that…” he shook his head, “I will understand if you can never trust me again, not with the same trust you held for me before we encountered the bloody Arkenstone.”

There was another pause, but he wasn’t done “I spoke with Mahâl after I died, as I am aware you spoke to his Father.” Briony resisted the urge to say something about that, “He offered me a choice, a choice that I still do not deserve. But if you will have me, I will stand by you and I will bring about Smaug and Sauron’s downfall.”

Briony sighed “Thorin,” was all she said, and the Dwarf looked like he wanted to answer, but didn’t. “I need you to understand a few things about what happened between us.  Things I did not understand, until several years had passed and I…was able to look upon your loss without feeling it was my fault, somehow.” Thorin flinched. “For you, however, I need to know-how long ago did you die?  It does actually matter.”

“I believe it has been sixteen years,” said Thorin quietly “But I will never forget, so it matters not.”

Briony nodded “It matters, though not quite in that way. You should know that I lived on, after your death, and I did so for a very long time.  Longer than is normal for a Hobbit after-that, though I now know why I was able to.” Thorin frowned, looking confused, and opened his mouth to speak. “Please, this explanation and recounting of what happened are hard, and I will let you know when I have finished.”

Thorin bowed his head, and then looked back at her, expectant now.

“The true story of what happened to me, and why I lived as long as I did, begins in the caves under Goblin Town, after I fell,” said Briony quietly. “I gave the Company something of an account at Beorn’s, but I never finished it. It was foolish of me, because what occurred that day was unbelievable, and I did not know what repercussions keeping that secret would have.  You recall the ring I found, that allowed me to disappear even from the eyes of Elves?”

Thorin frowned, and nodded “A powerful artifact, but one you claimed to be relatively harmless.  I saw no malice in it, and it was probably benevolent at the time.”

Briony snorted “Harmless my arse, and it’ll be benevolent the day Orcs are.” Thorin’s mouth fell open “Yes, yes, I started swearing, and I completely blame you Dwarrow for it,” she continued. “Now, the Ring.  It plunged me into a _cold_ world, Thorin, one of fire and ice and darkness when I put it on. I freed the Company from the spiders, and the dungeons, but I fell ill shortly after.  I know now that it was the Ring that made me so, for Hobbits are usually more resilient than that-we don’t take ill easily, even after swimming for long periods of time.  After you said the Arkenstone was a Silmaril, confirming my suspicions…well, it all made sense.”

Thorin still looked confused, though adorably so, now.  It looked like he wanted to ask her something, but he couldn’t find the words to say it.

“That Ring was _dark_ ,” she said quite firmly “As dark as its maker.  I will not-I am telling this out of order, but I am _glad_ of what Frodo did, in the end.”

She paused, gathering her courage “I used it in the Battle for Erebor, because I needed every advantage I could get.  At the time I could see no wrong in using it, but afterward I felt dirty, as if nothing I ever did would make me clean again.  And that…that _bloody_ Ring turned out to be more trouble than even that.  After you fell, and…” she swallowed “They did. I left Erebor, even though there was a royal pardon extended to me, because I could not bear to stay, not with who I had lost there.  So I returned, and to find my relatives auctioning off my mother’s china, no less!”

She took a deep, calming breath, “For the next fifteen years I could find no peace in the Shire.  It was not home, not after my home had been taken from me,” she noticed Thorin wanted to say something, but he didn’t. “So I rejoined the Dúnedain, becoming part of the patrols that hunted down the Orcs.  I left the Ring here in Hobbiton, and in those years patrolling and hunting Orc was my sole purpose.  Fifteen years after I returned from Erebor, my first cousins drowned on the Brandywine River, leaving behind their son, who was only four years old, Frodo Baggins. There was some talk of who he would go to,” she had to stop, closing her eyes as she remembered the little fauntling, and how much he _loved_ hearing tales of her adventures.

She would never see those blue eyes again.  Never see them look at her and call her _aunt Briony_ , never have him living here in Bag End with her. She would never fill the same role in his life that she had filled then, because she would not let Drogo and Primula drown this time.  And dear Frodo would never carry that accursed Ring again, not if she could help it.

“And you took him in,” Thorin’s voice brought her out of her thoughts.

“I did,” said Briony “My relatives were astonished, because none save for me could make him open up again, but he called to me.  He told me his name, spoke the first words to me that he’d spoken in-in _months_ after his parents died, and it was settled within a week that I would become his legal guardian. As you can imagine, this meant fauntling-proofing all of Bag End, and hiding all the weapons. I had to relearn how to live a quiet life, but I did.  And Frodo…he kept me going, at times.  He listened, encouraged me to write the tales of my life rather than just sitting here and wishing things had gone differently.  I never told the full tale, but…I told most of it.  And it helped, to know that someone else loved the Company as I did, even if only in stories.”

She took another breath, pausing this time because she knew what she was going to say was painful.  When Briony felt she’d appropriately braced herself for it, she looked back at Thorin.

“I did not know what I had in my possession until Gandalf told me. I passed it to Frodo, upon my 111th birthday, feeling thin and…well, very old, like butter spread over too much bread, as I’d been expecting to long before then,” Thorin moved to ask a question. “Hold your questions, please.  This part of the tale is the hardest part to tell,” Briony’s voice broke, and she saw his mouth close immediately. “I lived out the rest of my days in Imladris, making the journey there on foot as it was the last place I could go, at that point.  And don’t say anything about going to Erebor when my age was going to make it difficult for me to pass the mountains.  I would have gone if I could.”

Thorin nodded “I know,” his voice was a comforting rumble, soothing some of the old hurt this tale was bringing up.

Briony swallowed thickly “The Ring went to Frodo.  For ten years I neither saw nor heard anything about it. As Frodo grew old enough to travel respectably, though, Gandalf spoke of it to me, and Frodo confided all that had occurred to me in the twilight years of my life. Frodo threw the Ring into the fire, in anger or in sorrow I do not know, but found that it was still cool. The only change was the _writing_ ; that _damn_ writing that appeared on its surface.  That Ring was a damning curse, Thorin.  I should never have brought it to Erebor; it made things _worse_!”

Her eyes burned with tears as she remembered seeing Frodo’s hand, and recalled just how scarred he had been just by her own foolish decision. Never again, she vowed to herself.

Those were the words that opened the floodgates.  Thorin, mercifully, remained silent and simply offered her support, as she detailed the events of the War of the Ring, and the fight the Free Peoples mustered to oppose Sauron.  The Dwarrow she had not heard much about, and she could tell Thorin was quite disappointed in his kin for their lack of involvement and turning inward, only to defend themselves, but did not say anything for they were already a dwindling people. Gimli’s involvement did seem to bolster his spirit and knowing that a Dwarf was given passage to _Valinor_ upon his death, as Aulë had decreed with Manwë’s blessing, was more than enough for him.

When everything had finally been explained, the whole epic tale lay between them, heavy in its entirety.  The costs of the quest had been high, so high a price that Briony was not willing to let her dear Frodo pay it again, but she would bear it.  She would bear it _for_ him. This time, she would bear the Ring to Mount Doom and destroy it the moment they found it. 

“You were right,” said Thorin quietly “About the Ring. I refuse to believe it was not my fault, but you were right.  Bringing such evil as that into contact with a Silmaril, which still held the evil of Morgoth within it…”

Briony nodded “I will get to why Hobbits are less affected than other folk of the Free Peoples, but I-it is hard enough to explain this,” she swallowed hard “I am never letting what happened that day happen again.”

What Thorin did latch onto was something she had spoken of only briefly, in the beginning-something that would probably result in a rather loud argument, if she did not explain it properly.  She had not heard a word of his feelings towards her during the journey the first time around, and she was not prepared to hear the rejection she was waiting for, but she had no choice.  Not if she wanted them to really begin again, to trust each other again.

“You said you were,” he paused, “You should not have been capable of living for such a time after I died.” Briony felt her breath hitch and tried not to start down that path, because she knew exactly where it led. “What does that mean?”

Briony silently cursed herself for even bringing it up. It wasn’t as if it would go anywhere, and it would only bring her pain, but he deserved to know.

“It’s a…Hobbit thing,” she hinted, “Something we don’t tell outsiders about, but you deserve to know that much, at least.” Platonic Linking she could deal with, but losing him had all but destroyed her once, and she was scared of it happening again. “So that you are less likely to go risk your neck for something stupid.”

Thorin managed to do a good impression of a grumpy, confused bear “Risk my- _what_?  What counts as something stupid?” he demanded.

“Oh, I don’t know, dueling Azog while badly injured?” shot back Briony, readying herself for an argument.

Instead, Thorin winced, “That was foolish.  As…I have said before, my anger takes over and I cannot think. I have learned to control my temper, but it is still not good enough at times.”

Briony’s smile was slightly brittle “Let’s hope, for both our sakes, that gets better or I’ll need to teach you the Windspeech or Quenya so we can have our arguments without the others becoming aware of what’s going on.” Thorin frowned at her, and she clarified, “You might be _ridiculously oblivious_ and determined to blame yourself for everything, but I forgave you _decades_ ago, Thorin. I…yes, I regret that I hurt you that day,” Thorin’s breath hitched, “But I do not regret trying to ensure that you survived.  And that Erebor did not go to war with Men and Elves.”

“If you had not, we would have all perished to the Orcs,” admitted Thorin, “But…I…you cannot say I did not do _terribly_ wrong by you.  I valued a cold, dead _stone_ over the lives of those I cared about the most!  I nearly _killed_ you for it!”

“Yes, thank you for the reminder,” said Briony simply, reaching out to pat his knee; she’d forgiven him a long time ago.  Thorin still looked half like he expected her to throw him out on his arse for it, and that was _ridiculous_ after all this. “I’m not an idiot.  I know you will carry this guilt until you manage to forgive yourself, but I will not place more blame on your shoulders, not when what I did hurt you just as badly.  I said that I forgave you on your deathbed, Thorin, and that has not and will never change. We might need time, to get back to where we were when it…came to affection, but we can do this.”

This said, Briony held out her hand to him.  Thorin stared at her, and at the hand she was offering, and slowly reached out to meet her, clasping her own in his with a strength she knew existed but he rarely used.  It was almost desperate, but not nearly at the point of his full strength.

“We will need to meet halfway,” he said slowly “That may take me some time to perfect.”

“And we need to be completely honest with each other.” Briony took a deep breath, but did not release his hand “Hobbits are not directly related to Dwarrow, Men, or Elves.  We are more kin with the skinwalkers of the world, in truth, though we appeared in a valley in the East, near where Erebor truly is now.  The way the legend is told, Hobbits were born in the Second Age, perhaps because they were needed, or perhaps because it was simply time for us to come into the world.” She swallowed, and then coughed “Perhaps we should have tea first? I think I may need a moment; we have been speaking of…a great many things.”

“And much at length,” agreed Thorin, nodding to her and releasing her hand.

Briony smiled “Would you like a cup?” she asked, rising to put the kettle over the fire.  She was only marginally surprised when Thorin nodded, and she strung enough tea leaves and water for several cups. “The question you asked is related to the history of Hobbit-kind, I assure you, though perhaps not in the way you expect.”

Thorin’s lips twitched “I would imagine it is not,” he said.

“So, have you already met with the delegation from the Iron Hills?” inquired Briony, “I know last time they refused to come, but…” they had helped, but it had been too late.

“Dáin has his own people to think of,” replied Thorin “I would not force them into any battle they are not fully invested in.  Yes, I did, though this time I did not get hopelessly lost finding my way to the Shire in the dark.  Perhaps it is by the grace of Mahâl that I remember my way to your door.”

Briony chuckled “Well, if that is the case, then far be it from me to question it.  You do have a terrible sense of direction.”

Thorin grumped “I am perfectly fine _underground_. It is above ground that I tend to get lost, and I do not get lost when I am traveling on a road.”

“That said, perhaps it would be better to let _me_ guide us out of the Shire this time,” teased Briony, and Thorin scowled, but his eyes took the heat away from it all.  “It is remarkably easy to get lost in the Shire, if one is not from here.  Hobbits are rather different from the other races in that sense.  It is one form of protection we gain from living in such close quarters with each other.”

Thorin snorted, and with a few strikes of a well-placed match, lit his pipe. This would not prompt an argument from Briony just yet, but she was going to make this Dwarf try Old Toby later. She’d run out during their journey, else she would have made him smoke it sooner.  He took a long draw from it as they waited for the fire to brew the tea, but Briony felt no need.  Smoking was something she rarely did, and only out of courtesy or friendship, as she associated it far too much with dragon fire after her adventure.

Before Briony could fall into her thoughts again, the kettle whistled, and Thorin was moving to pick it up without any form of protection.

“What are you-” started Briony, but he didn’t seem to be in pain “Thorin?”

“’Tis a Dwarven skill,” he said, pouring her tea and then his own “It is called the Fire Touch.  Some of us have it from the day we are born; others must learn.  I nearly gave my mother a heart attack when I crawled into the hearth as a babe, but fire has never bothered me, nor has the cold.”

Well, that certainly made sense, now that she thought about their past adventure together and how often he had given his coat to to her. It didn’t quite explain the fur coat, but perhaps that was more a measure of keeping in warmth than keeping _away_ the cold. And just because cold did not bother him, as he said, it did not mean he didn’t enjoy the warmth the coat provided.

He set the kettle down on the tray she had retrieved it from and took his seat, blowing on the hot tea without taking a sip.  Briony did the same, and took a sip, as the hot liquid felt very nice on her throat.  It eased some of the pain she’d begun to feel during the retelling of the saga of the War of the Ring.

“You asked what I meant,” said Briony, after a few sips of tea “And I said it had to do with Hobbits and our origins.  We are not like Men, Elves, or Dwarrow.  Thorin-what I say here _may go no further_ , not even if you are asked while completely stoned off your arse with Old Toby.” Thorin frowned, looking confused. “Please,” she whispered “We can’t risk this going further than the borders of the Shire. There is a reason we tell no outsiders this, but you deserve to know.  Given how close we were, you have earned that much, and…it will be useful, should something drastic happen.”

Thorin nodded solemnly “It will go no further, save when it is necessary to save your life.” That, Briony could give him, and she nodded “Before you continue, how dangerous is this, for me to know?”

Briony’s smile contained very little mirth “If this tale falls into the wrong ears, then all of the Shire will be emptied by Orcs, Men, Elves or Dwarrow. Either to honor us or to use us as warriors, or in the case of Orcs, slaves.” Thorin’s teacup froze halfway to his mouth, and he stared at her in mute shock. “Hobbits are xenophobic, yes, but there is a reason such a culture exists, though I believe it to be excessive in cases.”

Thorin bowed his head “You have my word.”

And Thorin always kept his word.  She knew that better than anyone.

“Hobbits are not relatives of Men, though we seem to be, nor are we related to Elves or Dwarrow, not directly,” said Briony. “Some believe us to be the children of Yavanna, given life in response to her husband’s creation of the Dwarrow, but that is not entirely true.  Some still believe us to be a strange offshoot of the skinwalkers, like Beorn, but again, that is not true.  Though we _are_ related to them, it is more distantly than that.  I suppose that to tell you this,” she lowered her voice, “I must tell you something else. There is no Varda. There never has been, no matter what you saw in Valinor.”

“Varda-you mean, the Elves’ _Vala_ doesn’t exist?” Thorin’s voice was a shocked whisper, but at least it was a whisper “What…I saw her,” protested Thorin “A woman, wearing the light of moon and stars around her as a dress.”

“No,” Briony smirked, “You saw someone else.  Varda is a cover-albeit a very, very clever one.  The Elves are not completely right, though they do recall most tales correctly.  And it is not their fault they recall it wrongly, for this secret is extremely closely guarded, even in Valinor.  The only reason I may tell you is because…well, I was asked,” she managed a tiny smile “by Eru, to tell the full truth of it, that one family might know of his Daughter’s bravery. There is only one High Vala and it certainly isn’t Varda.”

Thorin stared at her, speechless, but did not say more as he nodded “Hobbits only came into being during the Second Age of the world, long after the Dwarrow, Elves, Men, and even Ents and their wives came into the world. Before the Second Age of the World, when Morgoth was locked away to begin with, the Sky Mother did what many thought to be impossible, pulling her younger brother _out_ of Morgoth, using the power the rest of the Valar forgot she possessed. She all but raised him and would never abandon him to _Morgoth_ , their Father’s opposite, even though Melkor did the stupid thing and tried to take him on alone to keep from interrupting Eä.  Through speaking with Lúthien Tinúviel, she determined how best to reach him, and when the time came, managed to save him. Alone.  Thus her Father allowed her to create one race, and he would make them his Third Children, and give them a home in the Song.”

Briony paused “She fashioned us after many different races. Hobbits, it is said, are not particularly violent, and we truly are not; push us too far, however and all of us _will_ fight to take back what we deem to be ours.  We are gifted with extraordinary memories, and certain talents show themselves in the midst of combat, though most of all we were made to adapt. To _live_ , and live well, we were given the gifts of Yavanna, who all but adopted us after Melkor returned to the Valar.  We value the Earth Mother for her teachings, for giving us the task to look after the smaller of the green and growing parts of Ardá, but she is more our aunt than our mother.”

She cleared her throat “At Eru’s request, the Sky Mother made us resilient-not solely in _hr_ _öa,_ either, as the Elves call it, but fëa as well, in our very beings. In making the first Hobbits, it is said that She inlaid us with the deepest sense of compassion and love, but encouraged us to value the smaller details.  She fashioned us out of parts of Herself, parts that She will never get back, or so the legend says, and given the extraordinary resilience we possess, I believe it to be true, as our Mother also has such resilience. She was quite happy to meet Frodo and myself, after so many years of Her children never traveling to Valinor, as was decreed by her fellow Valar given our seeming mortality.”

Thorin stared at her, almost speechless, before he bowed his head in acknowledgement “I believe I can see it, if she is truly as you say she is. The Eagles, then?”

“The Eagles are Hers, but only in name; they were fashioned by Oromë,” replied Briony, “For Manwë, at the behest of the whole Council of the Valar.”

Thorin nodded “That does make sense, now that I consider it. That…I do not see how it relates to your lifespan,” he said, frowning “Or why it is you would…pass on, so quickly after our journey together.”

“Hobbits do not have Ones, not as Dwarrow do, but we do have what are called Links,” replied Briony, quiet but firm. “Links are formed between two beings, typically those who are well-suited for each other, and without their Link, a Hobbit cannot truly live, though we may survive if w e never meet them. Our lifespan matches that of our Link, even should it be a platonic connection, as Links often are.” Now he looked confused, and she grimaced “Links can be one-sided, but those are incredibly rare, and fairly painful.  A broken Link will kill, if not from the pain of loss than from the aching emptiness one can always feel.  Links may be platonic, depending on ages; if, say, two best friends are Linked, but fall in love with sisters that are Linked as well, they will live together. _Many_ Links are romantic, but that does not necessarily preclude romantic feelings on either side,” Briony clarified “And one does not necessarily always find their Link, in which case, their lifespan is about two hundred years.”

Oh, brilliant, now she’d gone and broken him.  Thorin looked like he had more questions than he knew what to do with.

“Ask,” said Briony, taking a long sip from her tea in preparation.

“What, exactly, is a Link?” Thorin asked. “I do not quite understand it. How can it be one-sided? There is no such thing that exists, at least not in Dwarrow culture.  Is it a gift of your Mother?”

Briony smiled a little “Okay, three questions at a time is the limit,” she said, holding up her hand “else my answers will get long and very, _very_ confusing for us both. First, I suppose, I will answer the last question that you asked me.  Yes, they are a gift of our Mother’s, as she is Linked to one of Her fellow Valar in the same way, though her Link is romantic in nature, and incredibly powerful. She believed that the bond of a Link was a joy, and something that Hobbits should be able to cherish in much the same way.”

She took a deep breath “A Link may be one-sided, in the same sense that, as Bofur told me last time around, you meet your One but you are not theirs. Though it is _incredibly rare_ , it does happen that your Link does not feel the same pull towards you.  It may also happen that one part of the Linked pair-or trio, sometimes-does not Link immediately because they are unaware of the Link and what it entails. Such cases are also very rare, but often occur when one’s Link is of another race, such as, for example, my cousin Lily.  She had a one-sided Link for four years before she managed to complete it, because her husband Bran is of the race of Men.”

Thorin nodded “Those cases are rare, though has it been seen in the Shire that one may Link but find out their Link is not the same?”

“It hasn’t happened in the last three generations, but yes,” said Briony, falling back on the expression she used with Frodo and the calm that settled over her as she spoke.  It was a practiced calm, a means of helping her deal with her loss, and it would also, hopefully, keep him from realizing what she was speaking of. “A one-sided Link is painful, but only if half of it has been realized.  A one-sided Link that is incomplete-and then _shatters_ in death is even worse and will often drive the Hobbit to feel a gaping sense of emptiness and pain when they remember their Link. The pain never fades, no matter how old you get.”

Briony took her tea from where she had set it and settled it between her hands, taking a few sips to calm down.  She couldn’t afford to yell at him over something he didn’t understand and he was _trying_ to understand, so she couldn’t fault him for that.  But it still hurt that he had left her with an unfinished Link that had shattered on his death, and so completely that she had been barely able to hang on.  

His death had destroyed her in several ways, for almost twenty years. And it was only because of the Ring that she lived after that.

“A Link…” She stared into the fire “I suppose there are many ways I have heard it described.  The description I have always found fit the best, is that you meet one person, or possibly two, as is rather rare but not unheard of, that completes you.  The Link may remain unrealized, and while you will be content with your lot in life you will find that it…well, it lacks something. You will never truly be content until you find your Link and it is realized and completed. The person you meet, your Link, fills some hole you never even knew existed and when faced with the prospect of living your life without them, you simply find that you _can’t_ imagine it any longer.  It is the only surety in a Hobbit’s life, their Link, and some…well, some feel a pull towards a certain being, though I had never paid it much heed.”

She took a breath before continuing “A Link may manifest in many forms, but it usually begins with the Linked pair, if realized, feeling what the other does.  The emotions go first, and sometimes, they find themselves finishing each other’s thoughts.” Thorin opened his mouth, but just as quickly, shut it again. “Eventually, I am told, Linked couples can, if they are Linked _romantically_ and _completely_ , share their fëa, their souls, completely with one another.  I’ve obviously never seen it done, but given the number of old wives’ tales that have turned out to be true in my lifetime alone, I believe it is possible.  You are one being in two bodies, or so the legend has it, as is our Mother with her Link.”

Briony was not looking at him when she said quietly “Hobbits with one-sided Links will also fade, if their Link should…pass from the world. It isn’t quite as shattering as two that are in a Link, and one dying, as that will drive the other in the Link into a state of pain so great death is a mercy, but…it does happen. I was expecting to die shortly after you,” she admitted. “You are my Link.  Losing you would have killed me almost immediately if we’d been in a two-sided Link.”

A heavy silence fell between them as Briony stared into the flames, unable to look at her friend.  She hadn’t even realized it at first, why she _cared_ what he thought of her, but the longer she got to know him the further she fell, until it was too late to turn back, though she was hardly going to listen to her little, foolish heart.  Thorin had once told her he only felt love for his people, and could not love another the way she hoped for, but at least knowing this, she could bear it.

“Why did you never…” Thorin’s voice was quiet, and faded to a cough on the last syllable “Why didn’t you say something?”

Briony shook her head “I thought I’d have time.  We were on the quest first, and I didn’t want to risk jeopardizing our journey.  And to be honest,” she looked at her teacup, into the tea leaves she could see at the bottom. In the firelight, it almost looked like a bird in flight. “I was scared.  I have never really been approved of by my family; I’m too Tookish for my Baggins relatives, and too much of a Baggins for my Took relatives. I was shamed by my cousins for years for never choosing to marry, and never finding my Link only made things worse. When I returned home, I was “Mad Baggins,” the crazy old Hobbit spinster that lived in Bag End with her nephew. I am not by any standards a proper Hobbit, not even as is proper for a Took, given my tendency to join up with the Dúnedain rather than finding my Link, but the older members of the Took family have never been quite as cruel to me.  It took that one adventure to prove it to me.  I _knew_ what I could have, what I wanted, and it was right there in front of me.  I think, for the first time in my life, I had something I never wanted to lose, and I couldn’t-I couldn’t say anything about it no matter how I wanted to. I didn’t want to be cast aside, as I’d been for my whole life, and…” She swallowed “I fooled myself into thinking it wouldn’t hurt as much if you didn’t know all of it, all of what you were rejecting.” She let out a bitter chuckle “Obviously, I was wrong about that, but…” she shrugged, “After the Carrock, I knew you accepted me. I-the closer we were to Erebor, the…the more I feared being called a liar or a coward, just for-staying silent on the matter.  I couldn’t bear that.”

A glance at Thorin showed her the Dwarf was brooding. Again.  Briony had to resist the urge to hit him, for being an _idiot,_ because this time it really was her fault for not saying anything.  The Link was still there, still painful and not fully formed, but Briony did not intend to give it much notice this time.  He was alive.  Hopefully now that he _realized_ this, he would _stay_ that way. She could live with a one-sided Link for the rest of her life, if need be.

Thorin was speaking, realized Briony, and it took her a moment to understand him around the choked pain there “I will never be able to make up for what I did, Briony, and I do not expect you to even…” he stared at his lap, voice trailing off, but for a moment, she saw regret, pain, shame, and-oh.

Oh. _Oh_.

Well that certainly explained a few things.  Including why he had stared at her so much during their quest. It wasn’t because he was trying to figure her out. 

It was because at some point on their journey, he’d managed to fall in love with her.

“Bofur told me of Ones,” Briony said, startling Thorin out of his brooding for a moment as he glanced at her and then back at his hands. “He told me of the concept, at least, and that it was not unheard of for some to never feel the call of their One.  But that only the love of your One could snap you out of certain things.” Thorin was staring at nothing now, “Thorin…”

“You know the answer,” Thorin’s voice was choked up “But I can never ask that of you.  Never. Not after what I…”

“You are a silly Dwarf,” was all she said, before she reached out a hand, tilting his chin up until he was looking at her, “The other reason I never said anything was because my Link is romantic, Thorin. I feared, as happens at times, that your end would not be.  I’ve never been happier to be wrong in all my life.  Either one.”

Thorin choked, trying to look away, but Briony held his chin firmly and he didn’t jerk away, slowly bringing his hand up to hers. “I still cannot understand how…” he managed quietly, “How you could _possibly_ forgive me, let alone still…”

“Love you?” Thorin’s eyes went wide, and Briony smiled, even if it hurt “Because honestly, Thorin?  If you had said something, if you had spoken of your fears to me before, I would have helped. I would have done whatever I could to stop it and I would have probably changed things.  I would not have you do this if you do not want to, but the Link is there, and I am not leaving.  I’ve seen the worst of you, and you’ve seen and heard the worst of me-and we’re both still here.  That ought to count for something.”

The last thing Briony expected was for Thorin to stare at her for at least a minute in silence, before he startled her by pulling her into his arms and buried his face in her shoulder, his powerful arms encircling her in a warm cocoon. He was crying, realized Briony as her shoulder grew wet and his massive shoulders shook, and she held to him just as tightly, letting him grieve and hold her as he needed. He needed it, and Briony’s eyes weren’t exactly dry, either.  She could hear him whispering, sobbing apologies and words in Khuzdûl and Westron on her shoulder, just loud enough for her to hear, and she whispered her own to him, sometimes in the Hobbit tongue, sometimes in Westron, and at one point in Quenya.

But it was enough. 

By the time they were finished, the hour had grown late, and the fire was burning down to embers. 

Thorin wiped away what remained of her tears, and to his surprise, she kissed away the last two to fall. “I’m sorry about your shirt,” he offered quietly.

“I probably ruined yours as well, so we should wash it by tomorrow,” Briony said hoarsely, smiling at him “We…I think we needed that.”

“Yes,” agreed Thorin quietly, “We did.  And-Briony…” he hesitated “How…would one go about fixing a one-sided Link?  I am obviously not a Hobbit, so I do not know how, but…”

Briony smiled, “Well,” she said, “There are several ways, but part of it would mean I had to stop blocking my end.” Thorin frowned at her, disappointment in his eyes. “Don’t give me that look; it is actually rather natural after a Hobbit turns fifteen to do so.  And it will hurt,” she warned “I do not know how much, but I’m not sure it’s a good idea to do it tonight.”

Thorin shook his head, “You have suffered enough because of me, Briony.”

“That. That right there is why it is a bad idea to do this right now,” Briony said. “If we do this, I _will_ feel what you feel, Thorin, and there is no way to go back from this.  I do not know how strong it is.  The pain of a one-sided Link is nothing compared to what it feels like when your Link is in pain.”

Thorin’s rather familiar mulish expression returned “Regardless, I wish to at least start Linking with you, if…”

Briony smiled “Relax, Thorin.  Of _course_ I want you to Link to me. I’ve wanted it for a very long time. However, the Linking process for my family is also a little strange, and not as instantaneous, given that…well, I wasn’t lying when I said I’ve a faerie ancestor.  Three in particular, all of whom had many children that married back into the lines later for love.  The Link will have us both in pain for the first three days at least, a week at the outside if we do it now.” She took a deep breath “And the Link entails a certain amount of-familiarity, and lack of privacy. You may not be-comfortable with that.”

“And if we wait, it will not be any less painful, will it?” Thorin asked, before the rest of her words registered. “What do you mean by lack of privacy?”

Bebother and confusticate this _stubborn_ Dwarf! She was trying to spare him pain and distraction when he couldn’t afford it!  Thorin caught her expression, and smirked at her.

“No,” she said with a quiet huff, “no, it will not.  It may get even more painful to leave it, but it will be a distraction on the quest, and I would not have you unable to sleep tonight, either.” Thorin’s jaw set, and she knew she wasn’t going to be able to move him on this. “I will explain, but I need you to wash that shirt, first, so we both need to get up.  Otherwise you will have to wash it tomorrow and it will be a mess.”

“I’d rather have you here,” Thorin said, tightening his arms around her a little “Where I can keep an eye on you.”

“Then you can follow me into the kitchen, where I get what you need for the shirt,” Briony said, swatting at his hands on her hips.  She was rewarded with a low chuckle that made her feel hot, and she wanted to kiss him then and there, to cement the Link, but she didn’t dare. “Come on, Thorin.  I mean it. This is going to take at least three hours, even if we don’t Link, and we need to be up in time for market tomorrow if I’m going to cook for thirteen hungry Dwarrow and a wizard, much less myself.”

Thorin scowled at the reminder “I would rather not,” he let her go, though got up to follow her “Though I will help, where I can.”

“Good,” Briony led him into the kitchen, filling a big bowl with water “Take your shirt off.” Thorin stared, “Thorin, the snot is going to set,” she warned, and he quickly divested himself of his travel gear, including the armor he wore beneath his tunic, setting the soiled garment into the bowl. “Thank you.”

This, of course, left his bare, _very_ muscled arms open for her to stare at, something she really did not mind. However, as she, too had to take off her shirt, and her vest, she knew he was staring just as much. She was a practical creature and one of habit-while it was impolite to go around in one’s underclothes, she _knew_ she could trust Thorin.

It was rather adorable that he was trying to keep his eyes on her face as she was taking off her shirt, but her movements seemed to be distracting. Still, his eyes only wandered once, and immediately, as if he realized what he was doing, they snapped up to focus solely on her face.  She pulled on the bathrobe she had been wearing this morning, which she often left in the kitchen because she forgot it was there, and the startled blush on Thorin’s cheeks faded a little.

“What did you mean,” said Thorin “When you said that it entailed more than I knew?  A lack of privacy?”

Briony huffed quietly to herself “This is really, _really_ complicated,” she said.  His eyebrows rose, expectant, and she grimaced, “Really.  Linking is not an easy process for anyone to just out and _explain_ , Thorin, and it happens-differently for every couple.  I know my Link will never be normal, so any situation you find yourself in with me will be… _abnormal_ , shall we say.  And that’s without my faerie ancestors complicating things.”

Or his arms.  Eru, those arms were so- _focus_ , Briony.

“Faerie?” Thorin asked, tilting his head slightly.  “I thought you said that was a myth.”

Briony smirked, but she knew it didn’t reach her eyes “I thought it was. But Vána and Nessa never forget their children.  I’ve got about enough to make me a quarter-Fae, and three-quarters Hobbit.  Which means no iron can be used when we first fix the Link, and that the Link is twice as strong as it should be.”

“I still don’t know what that _means_ ,” Thorin pointed out.

Briony swallowed against the lump that grew in her throat “It means, where for most Links, they would be aware of what the other was feeing and sometimes feel their emotions in times of great distress, you will _always_ feel mine and I will _always_ feel yours, and they will be-a feedback loop, if you will. The mental aspect, if it forms, will mean we can hear _everything_ the other is thinking, if we choose to, but surface thoughts are always shared. We will have a hard time not being near one another, not- _touching_ , when we are in the same room, and we will gain the other’s lifespan, depending on which of us will live longer, naturally.  I…” she swallowed “I don’t know how it will react with the Lady’s blessing, either,” she said “And Manwë blessed me, as Lady of Light and Queen of the Sky, and that may affect you, as well.”

Thorin stood there in silence, his expression unreadable. She didn’t dare unblock the Link now, knowing it would only plunge her into silence and loneliness, and this time she didn’t have the Ring to stop her from falling.  She would not risk inducing the fading now.

Thorin finally spoke “Why would you offer me this?” His voice betrayed him; he was troubled by something she’d said. She frowned, shaking her head; what did he mean? “Do you know what it _means_ for a Dwarf to find their Ze, their Umurúdel, Briony?”

“Not as well as I would like,” Briony admitted “More than I did last time. I understand that there is one person, one being that will make you _complete_ , in all of Ardá, but not what that means for you as a person, as well.”

“We are born incomplete,” said Thorin quietly, “born half a being. When our Ze enters the world, if the connection is strong enough, we _feel_ it.  Fifty years ago, in this timeline-and in the original-I felt it,” he whispered “I felt it more strongly than any Dwarf has in centuries.  And now I know why.”

“Then…” Briony swallowed again “what does that mean?  I don’t-Thorin, I am not you, and the Link is one-sided. I can’t-promise what it will do, or what…” He held up a hand, and she trailed off.

“I am half-alive as it is,” said Thorin quietly “each Dwarf with a Ze is. Living side-by-side with them is enough for most Dwarrow to remain complete, but even knowing-even…” he shook his head “I am explaining myself badly.”

“We are not in any great hurry,” Briony said gently “Take your time.”

Thorin seemed to ease a little, tension bleeding out of his shoulders as he relaxed a little. “There is not a word for it in Westron, not-really,” he admitted, “but the closest I can think of is this.  Mahâl crafted the original Dwarf Fathers and the Mothers from the same stones, splitting them from one another, but there was always a piece of them that was incomplete without their Ze.  But for some, they find their Ones in Elves, in Men, and…Hobbits. It’s…I cannot explain it very well, in Westron, but Hobbits-you are incomplete without the Link, as you said. It’s as if-the world has less color, somehow.  Less life in it.”

“Yes,” agreed Briony quietly “Yes, it does.  Without the Link completed, I have…I feel it, Thorin. Even with it awoken, it’s not the same.”

“Then you understand that there is nothing else that will _fill_ that hole,” Thorin looked at her then, and there was something she recognized in his eyes-perhaps the beginnings of a Link, itself. “You offer not to complete it for _my_ sake, to live a half-life for me, and for what?  I will not just leave you in pain your whole life.”

In his eyes, she read something different, though.  A desperate, distant longing, distinct from everything else, and she knew.  The moment she saw it dawn in his eyes she knew. 

Dwarrow might have their Ones, but it was clear that somehow, the connection was blocked.  Somehow, there was a Link on his side.  _Somehow_.  He needed it, to feel-to be _complete_ he would need her, and she needed him just as badly.   It wasn’t just a question of want, which was what she had feared when she had first begun speaking of this.

“We will never be able to be apart after this.  Great distances, yes,” Briony said “But in spirit, you will _never_ be rid of me.”

There was something like relief in his eyes, but longing mixed with something else, as well, something much deeper.

“I don’t ever want to be rid of you, Briony,” his voice was close to breaking now “I would have you by my side, or be by yours, always, no matter what paths we may take in the future.”

This would definitely complicate things, but she could do it.

“Alright,” having made her mind up, “The stages are much more intense with a Fae-blooded Hobbit,” she warned him “So you will likely be discomfited for most of our first quest.”

“I will deal with it,” said Thorin, but she read between the lines; _I can’t lose you again._ “Please.  How…how do we Link?”

Briony gestured to the cabinets, crossing to her pantry “I need a small bronze bowl, which you will find in those cabinets,” she said “Perfectly round, with a rounded bottom.  I also need a set of igneous rocks, which I’m sure you can find around here somewhere, a larger silver bowl-yes, pure silver, don’t give me that look-and the golden cross-shaped, er…it’s a triskelion, you know what I’m talking about I hope.  I also need something small, made of metal, that represents you, along with the ceremonial dagger. Washcloths are in that drawer there, you had best just soak the tunic first, and it should get most of the tear-stains out by morning, even if you leave it.”

Thorin stared at her, gaping a little “What?”

Briony grimaced “Oh, right, I forgot; I also need something to represent air, and…oh bother!  I need you to find everything I told you, and put it all together.  I’ll be out shortly with the laurel, olive, incense, and the other things we need.”

Thorin stared at her “I’m sorry-can you repeat what you need again? I was…distracted.” Briony caught the light red flush to his cheeks, and decided to refrain from teasing him this time, as her bathrobe was starting to fall open.  She didn’t bother cinching it again, either. It wouldn’t be useful tonight anyway. “All I really caught was igneous rocks, and a perfectly rounded bronze bowl?”

“Yes,” Briony repeated the other things she’d told him again. Thorin nodded to her and turned to the cabinets “I also think the mortar and pestle are in that area,” Briony called over her shoulder “If you could bring those as well, that would save me a trip to the kitchen.  Washcloths are in the right drawer next to the sink, and if you soak the wet spot on your tunic and wipe it down with a washcloth it should be clean by morning.”

“There are three mortars here,” said Thorin, sounding a little confused; she risked a glance at him and he was watching her, and seemed very determined not to be.

“The one we need should have a leather tag on it, and the mortar should also have a strange set of symbols radiating from the center,” said Briony, as she pulled out the other necessary ingredients for the ritual. It had to be done as a ritual, now, “Oh, and if at all possible we need to keep iron out of things or my Fae blood is likely to fight back with a vengeance.”

“No iron,” Thorin agreed. “What do you mean, fight back?” he asked, “Will iron weaken you?”

“You don’t want to know, trust me,” said Briony with a wince “The backfire may kill both of us if that happens.  Or worse, turn us into children, as Fae are very childlike. And no, iron has no effect on me, but the Link opens my spirit, and it might offend whatever part of me is Vána’s daughter.  I’d rather not have any backlash.”

Thorin fell silent at that and after he gathered what she asked for, asked “Why do you have a set of obsidian rocks in your cupboard?”

“For the ritual to realize the Link, should the case be that my Link is not someone of Hobbit ancestry,” replied Briony.

Briony finished chopping up the sprigs of rosemary and added them to her own pile of herbs, to be brought out on the cloths she’d laid out. They needed to have a few more herbs, for the tea, and of course her mother’s tea set from when she did this, with Bungo. 

Following Thorin out into the garden, Briony sent up a silent prayer to her Sky Mother and Dancing Sister to keep visitors out of the garden, and a prayer to Mahâl, the Dwarven maker, to make this as smooth as possible. Thorin, in the meantime, removed everything made of iron that he wore, including several of his beads.

That night, neighbors of Bag End would be able to confidently say that they heard, and saw, childish laughter echoing out of Briony’s back garden from two beings, one of whom could not possibly be a Hobbit.  They put it down to the Fae blood said to exist within the Took line, when all sorts of tiny animals arrived in the midst of it all. And all of them curled up around Thorin and Briony, a crownless king and his maiden.

That night, a Fey Child of the Sky was Linked to a Child of Stone, and in doing so, each of them found a home in the other. 

*-*-*-*-*-*-*

**Author's Note:**

> I like gender-bending. This is, like I said, the beginning of a much wider universe but it requires so much editing that it won't be up for awhile. I have a tendency to add too much detail to my stories.
> 
> This is one of the ideas that's been bothering me since I posted chapter 3 of Bramble's story. 
> 
> Also, DOE update: The fourth chapter is still in progress, unfortunately. I keep getting stuck midway through scenes, not to mention I'm working this summer, but I will try my hardest to have it up by the 17th of July. I wish I could promise, but despite my scheduling writing time for that series I am stuck in the middle of the SHIRE. It's probably not helping that I have also realized that several main characters need a hug and support in some of my favorite shows and movies, and now I'm also writing that stuff out in my spare time. I recently watched Marvel's Daredevil (the new Netflix series) and am working my way through Agents of SHIELD. This plus a few discussions with my very good friend/beta reader (who doesn't have an AO3 account, but we live near each other) made me realize exactly how lacking the MCU is becoming in terms of three-dimensional characters and how much Age of Ultron irritated me with its poorly written romances, so eventually you can expect a massive fix-it fic from me in the MCU fixing these problems. I'm planning on posting a collection of short scenes as 'Sneak Peeks' for future stories once I'm done fleshing out the idea and creating the missing pieces of the puzzle.
> 
> I do plan on continuing Daughter of Eä. I just can't make the story flow well and I'm not going to put up a sub-par chapter with everyone acting OOC, because that's unfair to you guys. Same goes for this universe; it's not done yet, not by far, but I can't just update it with a badly written chapter, either (that's not fair for you).


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